


'Tis the Season

by xichooseyoux



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Swan Queen - Freeform, winter au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-23 23:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xichooseyoux/pseuds/xichooseyoux
Summary: When Regina Mills finds a frozen Emma Swan out on the streets one winter night,despite the fact that the woman drives her utterly insane, she invites her into her home for a warm meal and a place to stay. She assures herself it is only going to be for one night and one night only. 'Tis the season after all...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year, Swen!  
> \--xichooseyoux

"What are you doing in here?" 

The wide smile that stretched across her face instantly morphed into a frown. The light laughter that had escaped her lips fizzled out with a soft sigh, echoing in the silence that followed. Frozen in place, she blinked once. Twice. Her grip on her doll intensified to the point that her knuckles were as white as the snow that blanketed the ground outside. Her heart was pounding so wildly she was certain it was going to rip from her chest. 

"Regina, what are you doing?" 

Glancing between her doll and her mother, as if the doll would offer some sort of explanation, she gulped before she stammered, "Isabelle and I were just playing dress up. Wanna play with us?" It was Christmas Day. Regina had found the elegantly dressed doll sitting beneath the tree that morning and it had not left her arms since. The giddy smile was plastered on her pale face once again. Thrusting Isabelle forward, the young girl waited anxiously for a response, though her mother seemed to be paying her no mind. 

Cora, utterly consumed in whatever it was that she was rifling through the desk for barely acknowledged the offer with a hum. "I'm sorry, my darling, I can't. I have too much work to attend to."

"...but you never have time to play." 

As Cora turned to her, ominously quick, brow knitted together, Regina tightened her grip on her newly acquired best friend. It wasn't until her mother leaned back against the desk with a sigh did she relax. "Do you remember when I told you about when I was a child?" 

She crinkled her nose in thought. "You mean what it was like to be the miller's daughter?" Inching forward, eager for more information, her eyes went wide as her mother continued to speak. 

"Yes. I had to work in the mill all day, wearing nothing but rags, but it taught me something important. The only person I could depend on... was me—and once I learned that lesson, everything changed." 

Despite the chill in her mother's tone, Regina merely smiled at her mother, toying with the hem of Isabelle's dress. "I'm happy you don't have to wear rags anymore." Satisfied that conversation was over, Cora started to turn away, back toward her desk, until her daughter piped in again, a bit quieter this time. "M—maybe you can play with me later?" 

Cora's eyes jutted up and down, taking in Regina's stature before landing on the doll, a tight-lipped smile on her face. "Hm. You'll have your doll until then." She was halfway out the door as she called over her shoulder. "I'll see you at supper." 

…

It wasn't until her vision started to blur did she realize how long she had been staring at the paperwork in her hand. The edges of the paper started to blur together, all of the wording on the page morphing into one large, illegible blob. Accepting defeat with a sigh, she sat back, rubbing at her tired eyes with a pale hand, before pinching the bridge of her nose. Her darkened gaze wafted toward the window opposite her desk. 

Snow was drifting about in a wistful breeze, painting the landscape in a joyous winter wonderland. White-tipped evergreen trees were dotted about the rolling hills.

Casting her paperwork aside, deciding that the imbecilic complaints could hold off for another day, she threw her coat over her shoulders. Forgoing her typical carriage, the mistress slipped out the door.

People countlessly referred to Regina Mills' heart as stone cold. An evil queen in her prime. Those that said so had never truly felt the wrath of snow and ice, did not know the true definition of evil, she thought as her boots crunched underneath the blanket of snow under her feet. Stone cold was when the ice bit at your skin to the point that your entire body felt numb. Everything inside of you felt rigid and stiff. Flexing, she watched mindlessly as her gloved fingers curled inward. She relaxed her hands with a shaky exhale, a crystalized cloud materializing as her hot breath met the cold air. Those dim-witted folks haven't a clue about how cold and evil she could truly be. 

Crossing her arms over her chest, her regal and composed demeanor momentarily forgotten as she trudged down the cold streets, a scowl formed on her ruby lips as she watched the scenery pass her by. The same downtrodden cobblestone streets, day in and day out, highlighted dimly by the shabby streetlights. In the dead of night, not a single light shone inside the numerous homes that lined the roadway of main street Storybrooke. Everyone was nestled in their warm beds, sound asleep. She envied those people. 

Met by a cold blast of wind, Regina ducked her head, shielding herself from the onslaught of snow plaguing her. 

In hindsight, stepping outside for a breath of fresh air wasn't the sharpest of ideas. Steeling her expression, she concluded that she would still rather be facing the elements that facing that tremendous pile of paperwork invading her desk. 

'Tis the season... she thought with another exasperated sigh.

Clenching and unclenching her fists, she felt a familiar boil well up in the pit of her stomach, her throat started to burn. She chalked up the tears welling in her eyes to wind lashing at her face. She wanted to set something on fire. Baring her teeth, she let out a howl that would but a wolf to shame. A violet sob ripped from her throat. The wind slashed at her face, the blasts of cold air threatening to freeze the tears streaming down her cheeks. She wasn't sure how long she stood there crying out into the night, the wind and snow whipping around her, chilling her to the bone. All that she knew was, when a light from a nearby home flickered in the darkness, she bolted. 

If anyone were to see her like this her firm reputation was ruined.  
Ducking into a nearby alleyway, she hastily wiped at her tears. 

At first, she assumed the sniffling, the shifting in the still of the night, was her own doing; what caused the woman to lift a quizzical brow was when a whimper sounded from the darkened alleyway. 

"...what the hell?" 

Despite her better judgement, she trudged toward the unsettling noise. "Hello?" Her voice echoed in the streets, sounding far more ominous than even she intended it to be. Though, had anyone followed her, she would have their head. "Is anyone there?" She exhaled, glancing around. With a roll of her eyes, she was about to conclude that all of the commotion was caused by a mere critter mucking around in the night, until a shifting to her right caught her attention. Narrowed eyes eventually settled on a pile of trash—a moving pile of trash. 

The moving ceased but a whimper sounded again.

Regina cocked her head to the side, a shiver to running down her spine. With a scoff, she debated on leaving whatever the hell it was to its own devices. She had enough problems of her own to deal with, after all. Just as she started to turn on her heel a cough echoed in the still of the night. "Damn it." Rolling her eyes, she settled back into she mounds of snow. She couldn't exactly leave a person behind now, could she? 

Could she...? 

People may assume she's the evil queen, but even she wasn't that harsh. Besides, there were potential witnesses. 

To say she was surprised by what she saw was the understatement of the century. A young woman lifted her head. Hooded emerald eyes met a confused gaze with odd intensity. The shivering woman offered Regina a sheepish smile. "Hi." 

Furrowing her brow, she shook her head. "Who are you?" Not a hello in return. No longer concerned if the woman inside the box was okay. Her demeanor was off-putting and she did not like it. Regina was now utterly confused and wanted answers. "What are you doing here?" 

The strange unsettling composure was shaken as she coughed violently. "Emma," she managed between rasps. "Emma Swan." Taking in a shaky breath, she unsteadily challenged Regina, "I could ask you the same question. You're in my home."

"In your—what?" Dark eyes raked the woman up and down and she swore she thought she saw the woman smirk at the action. Perhaps it was a trick of the light. It was incredibly dark and the lights were weak, after all. "You live," her eyes surveyed her surroundings, "here?" 

Crawling forward so that she was sitting cross-legged in the snow beside Regina, not at all bothered by it seeping through her clothing, Emma shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah. Not like I really have any place else to go." 

Now, more than ever, Regina wished she had remained inside, surrounded by her piles and piles of paperwork. Instead, she was shivering, stuck in the snow with some woman that was clearly deranged—Emma was sent into another coughing fit, causing Regina to arch her brow—and dying by the sound of it. 

"Uh... you okay over there?" 

"Oh that?" Emma waved her hand nonchalantly, flashing Regina another aggravating smirk, "totally nothing. I'm fine. Just a bit of a cold from, you know, the cold."

Another uncomfortable chill ran down Regina's spine. "Yes, well, I can certainly see how. I'm freezing, my fingers are numb, I can no longer feel my nose--"  
Her rant was cut short by Emma interjection. "-- your cheeks are flushed." 

Blinking once—twice—Regina regained her composure by waving her hand in the air. "Hm." She clicked her tongue. "I wouldn't know. I believe my face is frost-bitten." 

Rolling her eyes, Emma rose somewhat unsteadily to her feet, dusting the snow off of her with a quick shake. She cocked her head to the side studying the other woman from her newfound vantage point. Mimicking Regina's click of the tongue, she countered, "Hm. Yes, well, you don't have to sit here, ya know? ...what are you still doing here, anyway?" There was a hint of amusement in her eyes as she extended her hand. "You don't seem very fond of me."

Ignoring Emma's extended hand Regina crossed her arms over her chest. "You're right. I'm not." She had every intention of snarling at the other woman, the vicious growl was on the tip of her tongue, except when she opened her mouth, a laugh was what escaped her lips. One side of her mouth upturned a bit in a lop-sided smile. "But, you sounded like you were dying—except despite the fact that you sound horrible you seem fine to me." Her gaze searched Emma from head to toe. Clothing was worn and soaked in snow and ice. She looked filthy to put it gently. "...on second thought... when was the last time you had a shower?" 

Emma opened her mouth to rebut, but an oddly loud grumbling cut her off. Reddened cheeks were tinted even more so as the blonde averted her gaze. 

"Either that was another shabby, annoying creature or your stomach." Quirking her brow, she eyed Swan. "...when was the last time you had a decent meal?" 

Scrunching her nose Emma appeared to be in deep thought. 

That alone was enough of an answer for Regina. "Don't hurt yourself, dear." 

"You know, you're awfully vicious for someone I just found crying in an alleyway in the middle of the night." Regina's eyes widened, any resemblance of a smile instantly wiped from her features. A small smirk tugged at the corners of Emma's lips. Mirroring her new acquaintance's posture, Emma crossed her arms. "Yeah, I saw and I don't know why, but it appears that you want to keep any proof that you are an actual human with emotions to yourself. Hell, I thought I had problems..." 

"If you speak one word of anything you saw tonight to anyone in this town, I will personally make sure that you will never get off of these streets." 

"I'll survive. What's in it for me? Tis the season for giving, after all." 

The woman unnerved her for reasons she could not put her finger on. She was cocky and extremely unsettling. A common street rat by the looks of it, and for the time being, it looked like Regina was stuck with her. A faux smile was plastered across her face as she spoke, "...how would you like a warm meal and a glass of the best apple cider you've ever tasted? After that I won't feel quite so bad about throwing you back on the streets."

Seeming to ignore Regina's final sentence, Emma sighed, though there was a slight quirk to her lips. "Got anything stronger?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatcha think?  
> Just in case, I feel the need to say that I cannot take full credit for the opening scene. I merely narrated a scene from 5x19!  
> Also: my tumblr is linked on my profile. Feel free to follow me there for the occasional story update and other random nonsense!


	2. Chapter 2

The walk back to 108 Mifflin Street was a quiet one, though at some point, Regina noticed the blonde woman shivering uncontrollably. Her teeth were chattering so loudly she was certain the entire town could hear. With a roll of her eyes Regina shrugged her shoulders and practically tossed her coat at her. Anything to stop that incessant noise. That was precisely how Emma Swan ended up stumbling through the door with Regina's coat wrapped securely around her. 

"I want that back, you know." 

Emma seemed far too reluctant to let go of her newfound warmth. Regina swore she could almost see her lower lip quivering. She had come to the conclusion that if she rolled her eyes anymore they were going to become permanently lodged into the back of her skull. In lieu of the appropriate eye-roll, she settled on letting out another exasperated sigh while extending her hand. Eyes as sharp as daggers were pointed in Emma's direction. 

Begrudgingly, the blonde handed the coat over. "Just when I started to think you actually had a heart." 

"I remember promising you a meal and a glass of cider. I don't ever recall mentioning that I was going to be nice about it."

Depositing the coat on the coat-rack by the door and slipping off her gloves, she calculated her next move. Without the mayor's coat hugging her body Emma looked impossibly frail, filthy, and famished. 

Clasping her hands in front of her, she straightened her back, ready to execute her plan. "Okay, first thing's first: you need a shower. Desperately." Ignoring Emma's cry of protest Regina continued on, "—if I have to cook food for you, I don't need to be gagging while doing so. I'll show you to the guest bathroom. I have a few spare towels and I'm sure I can find some old clothing lying around, because well, quite frankly, dear, you're wearing rags. Feel free to use any cleaning products you deem necessary—seriously."

With Emma occupied for the time being, Regina busied herself by bustling around her kitchen. Despite the absurdity of the situation, she found comfort in the familiar routine. Then again, perhaps with was the simple fact that she had a few moments of piece—alone—since the start of the night. Utensil poised, her grip firm, the knife she held in her hand hit the board with such force that, for a moment, she was nearly positive that she had sliced through the counter. 

Over the years, she had found herself in some pretty difficult situations—her life wasn't as pristine, prim and proper as she led everyone to believe, but being essentially held captive and blackmailed in her own home? That was a first. 

What the hell was she doing? 

It was ludicrous when she sat back and truly thought about it. 

In a matter of moments, Regina Mills had gone from regal composed to an indentured servant. 

No--another hard chop on the board sounded in the stillness--she was not going to allow herself to be broken that easily. Steeling her expression, she steadily sliced away at the vegetables in front of her, allowing the rhythmic beat to momentarily soothe her. A shaky inhale and exhale of breath was her desperate attempt to calm her nerves. Every single fiber in her being felt as if it were on fire, on edge. Swallowing thickly, she sat the knife down, gripping the edge of the counter, in order the steady herself. As the silence washed over her, her eyes darted around the room.

Whoever uttered the moronic words “silence is golden” should have their hearts ripped from their chests, Regina thought as she redirected her gaze to the kitchen counter. Silence isn’t golden; silence is lethal. Dangerous thoughts, those deep personal thoughts in the very back of every person’s mind, the ones people try their best to conceal, resurface in the silence. They tunnel their way back up, see a weak point, and attack. Silence is anything but golden in Regina's opinion. She had spent nearly her entire life in silence, only speaking when spoken to, spending the majority of her time alone. As she closed her eyes, she willed the tears that were threatening to brim in her eyes to vanish. Emotions were what got her into this mess in the first place. 

Despite it all, Regina had grown used to being alone. After having the entire home to herself for the longest time, it was unnerving to have someone else in her space.

Emma alone was unnerving.

The woman was untrustworthy.

That suave smirk on her face.

That mischievous twinkle in her eye.

It all caused an unsettling feeling in the pit of Regina's stomach.

As soon as possible, she was tossing Swan back out into the snow on her ass.   
The mere thought caused a smirk of her own to stretch across her lips. Picking up the knife again, Regina resumed her previous task.

"Regina, what are you doing?" 

Frozen in place, the brunette blinked, knife mid-air. Bright smile instantly morphing into a grimace, Regina practically whirled around, blade poised and pointed in the direction of the intruder.

Clad in merely a dark silky robe, Emma leaned against the wooden door-frame, her arms crossed over her chest. Her blonde hair, dripping wet, hung in loose waves by her shoulders. There. There it was. That devilish smirk. What sounded eerily like a snarl fell from Regina's bared teeth.

Narrowing her eyes, she deducted, "I don't remember telling you my name." 

"You didn't—your name was monogrammed on those fancy towels upstairs. At least I'm assuming they were yours—unless there is another person living here, I don't know about." 

"Miss Swan--" 

"--Emma." 

"--Miss Swan, it is not polite to sneak up on people. Or pilfer through my personal belongings. Those are not the towels I left out for you on the sink. Now... sit." Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Regina used her knife to guide her directions. The blade was poised, pointing to a nearby chair. "And don't touch anything."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Silence met her ears once again. A sigh of relief nearly fell from her lips as she was able to submerge herself in the familiarity of the hustle and bustle around her kitchen. Regina nearly forgot about Swan's presence. In fact, the woman completely slipped her mind. That was, until a rather loud, shattering crash echoed in the stillness of the house. Turning on her heel, forgetting all about the meal, leaving various ingredients scattered about the counter, wiping her hands on the apron stung around her waist, she was met with an empty chair. Her eyes narrowed. Practically ripping the aforementioned apron off and tossing it to the side Regina bellowed, "Swan!" 

A weak, "sorry!" echoed from down the hallway. 

"I thought I told you to stay put." 

Regina found her in her study. Her private study. The woman stood awkwardly in the center of the room and she squirmed under Regina's decisive glare. She balanced her weight on the balls over her feet until the dark eyes burning holes into her sole finally flickered away. They landed on Emma's feet where shards of glass were littering the floor. It took every ounce of dwindling will power she had left not to throw the woman outside then and there. Reputation be damned. Murder was a far worse accusation but as time went on, as Swan continued to violate her belongings, it was becoming more and more of a possibility. For the first time, the scrappy blonde was completely silent. Somehow, that upset Regina even further. 

It was if the woman had no words for her actions. 

As if all of her confidence had been shattered along with the glass, Emma stared at the other woman with wide eyes, fidgeting with her hands. 

This was ridiculous. 

"What do you have to say for yourself?" It was as if she were scolding a child. If Emma was going to behave like once, Regina was going to treat her as such.

"Who's this?" The question went completely over the blonde's head. Through one ear and out the other. Emma's fingers lingered along an elegant frame, fingertips dancing along the edges, ignoring Regina's condescending inquiry. "Mom?" She inquired with a quirk of her brow, a soft smile on her lips. "You look a lot like her." 

"I have asked you repeatedly to sit down and to not touch my personal belongings." Regina's hands were clenched into fists by her side. The next few words that slipped past her bared teeth were harsh, her voice eerily calm despite the ever-growing lump in her throat. "I know following simple directions may be difficult for you, but please, try your best." 

"I just--" 

"Not a word." 

"But--" 

"Miss Swan!" 

Inhaling and exhaling shakily, Regina met Emma's shaken gaze. Her loud assert echoed in the stillness that followed. "I suggest you do you as say or have mercy on us both." 

Nodding slowly, Emma gulped. Though there was something in her eyes, a playful glint, a hint of something more, she remained silent the rest of the night. She ate her meal with gusto, downed her drink as if it were the first drop of liquid that had touched her lips in ages, and even offered to help Regina pick up the shards of glass. Regina denied of course. 

...

Freshly dressed in warmer clothing, Emma stood in the doorway of the front entrance, offering the other woman a soft smile, bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet. A small—well, rather large—part of Regina wanted to literally push her out the door and turn the lock. The image caused her lips to upturn slightly. 

"You know, I almost don't want to leave. This is nice." 

As quickly as it appeared, the brunette's smile vanished. 

"Get out of my house." 

"Aw, but the fact that you have now threatened me more than once in the last few hours makes me want to stay more. It's our thing." 

Dark eyes narrowed to slits. 

A loud laugh fell from Emma's lips. "See you around Regina." With a wink and another stupid smile, Emma sauntered down the steps, making her way down the walkway. 

No sooner did she turn her back, a sigh of relief on the tip of her tongue, did she hear a rather unsatisfying thud and a steady stream of expletives to follow. 

No. 

No. 

Why do all horrid things happen to her? 

What did she do to deserve this? 

Closing her eyes, she turned on her heel. When she opened them, sure enough, she found Emma Swan, flat on her ass, leg turned at an awkward angle. 

"Uh... Regina? You still there? Um... help?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3, 2, 1... HAPPY NEW YEAR! Ring in the new year with a new chapter of Tis the Season! Thank you all so much for the feedback on the previous few chapters! It means a lot. 
> 
> -xichooseyoux

The blonde woman had her insides twisting, her mind whirling in circles like a tornado. She couldn't think straight. Her limbs turned to mush when she was within ten feet of the spunky street rat. Regina Mills wasn't scared of anybody. Except, whenever she was around Emma an involuntary shiver overtook her body. She slumped against the backside of her door, still wide open. A cold draft allotted the snow and ice to drift inside, causing another sort of shiver to take over her person. Crossing her arms in front of her, she embraced the chill. In the silence once more, she started to kick her feet as her eyes fixated on the ground.

This was certainly not how she pictured her night going at all. There was still a mountain of paperwork awaiting her on her desk...

She closed her eyes before they almost instantly snapped open and she relented with a snarl.

Damn silence, she inwardly cursed as her mind drifted to unwanted places once more.

Christmas time in the Mills home was never a time that Regina recalled fondly. In fact, she downright despised the holiday. She'd much rather hide herself away. Alone.

"Gee, thanks for the help, Reggie." A voice called out, causing Regina's head to snap skyward, hard eyes then fixated on none other than Emma Swan, stumbling through her doorway once again. Regina's coat securely around her shoulders... again.

Was it too late to wish for the silence back?

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry, 'Gina." The bold blonde hopped forward, crutches underneath her arms, clunky cast on her leg.

Eyes rolled. "That either."

Emma's face twisted, chancing a glance toward Regina, for she was fuming. A sheepish smile was thrown in her direction. It was not met kindly.

There was an age-old expression claiming that "all good things come to those who wait" encouraging the virtue of patience. Regina was no stranger to the phrase. She was also no stranger to the action in of itself. In hindsight, the perky little saying is supposed to give the downtrodden and weary hope in the midst of hard times. In Regina's case, each and every time, just as she starts to think that there was a sliver of a chance, a light at the end of the tunnel, it all comes crashing down.

In this case, just as Emma starts to carry herself out and away from Regina's home, taking that annoying little smirk on her face with her, she quite literally came crashing down, breaking her leg in the process.

This was most certainly a disaster. With a groan, she pinched the bridge of her nose. Perhaps this was all a dream, an unspeakable nightmare. Closing her eyes, she inhaled sharply. When she opened her eyes, still she found a mop of blonde hair, emerald eyes, a crooked smile.

Waiting be damned. Regina did not care how long it took for Emma's leg to heal, weeks, centuries, she was certain that no amount of time with this woman would produce a positive outcome.

So much for hope.

Hope did absolutely nothing except give people false expectations and let people down.

That expression was preposterous.

Hope was for the weak.

She was not weak.

"Six weeks." The word was more of a statement than a question, as Regina threw her head back and groaned.

"A minimum of six weeks, actually." The intensity of the pounding in Regina's skull increased with each word. Seemingly oblivious to her pain, the blonde continued to spout off medical jargon. "Remember, doctor said the cast will need to stay on my leg for at least six weeks, possibly eight. Then, after the cast is taken off," she adverted her gaze, speaking to her boots more than to Regina, avoiding the other woman's malicious glare, "I'll likely need rehab and all that stuff to make sure I remember how to use my leg muscles and all that."

Regina's voice raised an octave or two, reminding herself not to roar at the woman before her. "I hope you're happy with yourself, Miss Swan."

"Seriously?" Swan scoffed, meeting Regina's stare with a defiant roll of her eyes. "You think I meant to break my leg?"

"Well you undoubtedly have made yourself quite comfortable in my home."

"Oh, yeah, because you're such a joy to be around—and hey! I offered to go somewhere else. Every damn inn in this rundown town is booked thanks to the holidays, and it's not like I can go back to my box with this thing on my leg. You know, Regina, just when I started to think that maybe, just maybe, you had a heart, you turn around and continue to prove me wrong by acting like a cold-hearted bitch. What's your deal, anyway?"

Blinking, for the first time, Regina was at a loss for words. She opened her mouth to protest, but in the end, all she managed to do was open and close her mouth, wordlessly.

Realizing the severity of her words, Emma's eyes widened. "Shit. No. Look, I'm sorry, I-"

"No explanation needed." Holding up her hand to cut off whatever rebuttal Emma may have had, Regina turned her back to the other woman. "It's late. I'd like to get to bed, if you don't mind." Clenching her teeth, continued, "There's a guest room up the stairs and down the hall."

"Oh, great, more stairs."

"What was that?"

"Nothing." It was by far the most aggressive tone that Emma had produced all night. Truth be told, it shook Regina a bit, causing her eyes to widen slightly before eyeing the stumbling woman suspiciously. "I got it."

It was almost painful to watch.

A grimace formed on the other woman's face, her lips pursed as if she were in deep thought. One step forward resulted in Emma's crutch being swept out from underneath her feet—well, foot. Her cast covered foot was dangling awkwardly in the air. Stumbling backwards, Regina stifled a sigh as she collided with the handrail of the staircase. She crossed her arms, arching her brow as she watched the show.

Just as quickly as she regained her footing, as soon as Emma dared to brave another step, she careened again, this time nearly collapsing to the ground.

"Whoa-" she wasn't sure if the exclamation left Emma's lips or her own, but all that she knew was, in the next few moments, faster than she could blink, the stumbling woman collided with Regina. Her arms wrapped around her waist in an attempt to keep both of them from crashing to the floor. Their noses were almost touching, Emma's shortened breath was brushing against her cheek.

Regina inhaled and exhaled slowly. As soon as she was certain that the other woman was steady on her feet, she practically pushed her away. Hopping on her foot, Emma recoiled, eyes wide.

Clicking her tongue against her cheek, Regina steeled her expression. "Be careful. We don't need you breaking your other leg."

…

At first, she did not understand where she was or why she was there, nor did she understand why she had such an unsettling feeling in her stomach. Regardless, she wandered down the halls. Her lingering shadow cast an eerie aura as she navigated her way through, the aging floorboards creaking a bit under her weight.

Regina stood with a quirked brow outside an ominously familiar door. She hesitated. Something she could not quite place her finger on was drawing her toward the door. Her hand shakily reached forward. In the deepest part of her psyche, she could hear a voice telling her to run, but another part of her, curiosity peaked. With an unsteady hand, she drew open the door and was greeted by a scene that made her stomach clench.

"Regina, what are you doing?"

Her voice suddenly sounded small, "Mother?"

It was in that moment, when she stepped forward, that she realized she was small. As if by magic, Regina was instantly transformed into her younger self, bright eyes widened as she stared, dumbfounded at Cora Mills, back in her former office, hunched over her desk, mounds of paperwork surrounding her. Regina found herself moving forward despite her internal conscious screaming for her to bail. Her movements were in autopilot, as if she had no control over her own body. She peered over the wooden desk, fingers clutching onto something that had materialized in her hands. Toying with fabric, Regina instantly recognized the doll from her childhood: Isabelle. Isabelle did little to calm her heart, pounding so fast against her rib cage it physically pained her. Tightening her grip, she hovered by Cora's side.

"What is it, Regina? I'm very busy." Her tone echoed in the young girl's ears as she spoke.

She stepped back, shaking her head. "It's Christmas... —I was just wondering if... if you wanted to play, now?"

"Of course not. You have me, remember?"

There was a high-pitched voice that echoed off the walls. Those words made Regina's entire heart stop beating. She couldn't move, she couldn't think. Her dark, tear filled eyes grew wide and her mouth was agape in what would be considered shock—if shock was the correct wording. Terror, complete disbelief, even horrified would have been proper, but shock didn't even begin to describe the aforementioned.

Isabelle, her bright eyed, sweet-faced doll was staring at her, eyes a bloody crimson, a wicked grin on her face. "That's all you'll ever have."

The mantra kept repeating in her head.

Regina opened her mouth to scream, but all that was produced was a strangled cry. Dropping the doll, she turned to run, but just as she gained her footing, she came crashing to the ground, stumbling over her own feet, her face colliding with the hard, wooden floor. Isabelle leapt after her.

"No!"

...

It took the esteemed woman a moment to realize her whereabouts. She jolted upright with wide eyes and in a heap of tangled sheets. Her breath was ragged and short, heart pounding feverishly in her chest. Regina closed her eyes and shook her head.

It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real.

A rapping on the door, soft yet firm enough to echo in the stillness, caught her attention. "Regina?"She opened her eyes to find a pair of very anxious emerald eyes staring at her with a furrowed brow. Emma inquired, worry laced over the strong assert of her inquiry, "Are you alright? I—uh—I heard a scream..."

"Miss Swan-" Regina started, having every intention of tearing the woman apart for, once again, snooping around her home, but her voice wavered. With a deep breath, she managed, "I'm fine, just a bad dream. Go back to sleep."

The blonde remained frozen in the doorway. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Her answer was quick—too quick. She remedied. "No. I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

Regina kept her eyes stationary on the opposite wall as she remained upright, listening to Emma shuffle awkwardly back and forth on her crutches. She didn't move; she didn't speak, it wasn't until she heard the awkward shuffling inch closer did she let out an unsteady breath via pursed lips that she didn't realize she was holding. With that outtake of breath, Regina rolled onto her back and kept her eyes deadlocked on the ceiling. Even with the bed dipped she remained stationary.

For the longest time, both of them remained silent. The only sound to be heard was the slight ruffling of bed sheets as Emma made herself comfortable. Earlier in the night, Regina would have screamed at Swan to leave her personal space that instant. Demand that she got the hell out of her room, back to her own assigned quarters, so she could be left on her own, like she preferred. In fact, the growl was on the tip of her tongue, but as she pushed herself upwards, as she craned her neck to send daggers in the blonde's direction, all that she managed to produce was a tired sigh. Swallowing thickly, she met Emma's gaze, and the sight before her unsettled her for a completely different reason. As she watched her, she nearly cursed out loud at the sight. That infamous smirk on her face had been replaced by what appeared to be a genuine, gentle smile. Her head was cocked to the side.

Regina's heartbeat was still racing a mile a minute.

It was hard for her to breathe.

She could still hear that blasphemous, high pitched voice in her ears, feel the small, clammy hands of the doll scratching at her skin. Still, that wasn't the part that truly unsettled her.

Despite all of that, her gaze remained locked with Emma's. Perhaps it was her addled brain, perhaps it was a trick of the light, but she thought that maybe, just maybe, Emma had scooted closer.

I want her out of my room.

Try as she might to speak, her voice failed her. The mere strangled sound that managed to force past the ever-growing lump in her throat was barely a sound at all.

She averted her gaze, unable to stand that look in Emma's eyes any longer.

"I get them too, you know?" Emma's voice sounded distant. "Nightmares," she iterated. "They suck." A soft chuckle left her lips. "When I was a kid—in my third foster home, I think-" Regina's eyes widened slightly, "- I used to have this dream where I was in this freaky, enchanted forest being chased by ogres."

Regina arched her brow. "Fascinating story, Miss Swan."

"I also used to have this reoccurring nightmare about the Evil Queen. You know, from Snow White? Yeah, I wasn't allowed to watch Disney movies for a long time..."

The brunette watched and suppressed a satisfied smirk as Emma chewed on her lower lip. Annoying, perhaps, Regina thought, but she could be entertaining. "One of my foster mothers used to tell me stories as a child." Her voice soft voice caught her attention. When Regina didn't speak, she continued, "said that if I didn't behave and do exactly what she told me to do, that these monsters would attack me in my sleep. Made for a lot of sleepless nights. The irony of it is, is that she turned out to be the very monster I was afraid of."

Regina's eyes wandered into the night. Her eyes fixated on the opposite wall once again as if it were the most fascinating creation in all of history. A bitter scoff left her lips. She kept her eyes on the wall as she spoke, "Yeah, I know the feeling."

The two of them merely sat there in the silence for a moment, both of them absentmindedly toying with the bed sheets underneath them. There was a time when Regina Mills had sooner be lit on fire before admitting that she needed someone by her side, but she couldn't help but shake her head as she suddenly realized that her palms were no longer sweating. That it was suddenly easier to breathe. For tonight only, she decided, that she didn't want to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some questions about whether or not this story is set in cursed Storybrooke or not. It's not. There is no magic in this story- besides the magic between Emma and Regina ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Whatcha think? 
> 
> Also: my tumblr is linked on my profile. Feel free to follow me there as well for the occasional story update and random nonsense!


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